


Red road

by wolfypuppypiles



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Blood, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Prompt Fill, Protective Tony, Violence, Whump, Worried Tony, cursing, dad tony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-24
Updated: 2018-12-24
Packaged: 2019-09-25 22:33:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17129945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wolfypuppypiles/pseuds/wolfypuppypiles
Summary: "Peter nothing is more important than family and you saved my daughter's life. I’ll never forget that but you know I can't have you interfering with my business right?”Tomes doesn't give Peter another chance in the car.





	Red road

**Author's Note:**

> okay, keep in mind this is not at all medically accurate but I researched some things as much as I could but like I'm not a doctor so go easy okay? I really hope you like this I worked pretty hard on it. also, I know i hate the title too
> 
> This fic was based on the prompt "Toomes doesn't give Peter another chance in the car." that was on the way to you know the scene in homecoming when he realised peter was spiderman? ye that one

The car came to a stop in front of the school and Peter felt stretched thin. He was almost out, he could get out of the car and call Happy and tell them that Liz’s dad was the Vulture. They’d take care of it. 

“Here we are. End of the line. You head in there gumdrop I’m gonna give Peter the dad talk.”

Liz turned to him, rolling her eyes as she smiled. “Don't let him intimidate you.” Too late. 

She opened the door and got out, hand patting her father's shoulder as she said goodbye. “Love you, have a safe flight.”

He smiled at her and Peter tried not to hyperventilate as Liz left him there. “Love you gumdrop.”

The door closed with a pop, sounding more like a gunshot to Peter and he tried not to flinch.

The car was silent, and Peter kept his gaze on his hands in his lap. Finally, Toomes spoke, voice low. 

“Does she know?”

Peter played the charade, not needing to fake the terrified tremble of his voice. “Know what?”

Facing villains in masks was easy. With their masks on they were just bad guys that needed to be stopped and with his mask on he was brave, he was safe but now...Adrian wasn’t just a bad guy he was a man. A man who had done terrible things and already tried to kill Peter once in that lake and without their masks they had to look each other in the eye and admit they were both humans. 

Adrian nodded. “So she doesn't. Good. Close to the vest. I admire that. I got a few secrets of my own.” He laughed a little, turning in his seat to look at Peter. “Of all the reasons I didn't want my daughter to date ...Peter nothing is more important than family and you saved my daughter's life. I’ll never forget that but you know I can't have you interfering with my business right?”

Peter swallowed, paling as his palms began to sweat. He was in trouble and he knew it. His hands began to fumble for the door handle as Toomes carried on.

“I mean you've seen too much, you know who I am now. I can't just let you leave with that sort of information and I definitely can't have you telling my little girl.” 

The lock slammed down before Peter could get the door open and his fingers fumbled to unlock it, his spider senses screaming instead, telling him to turn around.

His heart raced in his chest when he did, watching as Toomes pulled out a gun from the glove compartment. He pointed it at Peter, arm slung leisurely over the back of his seat.

“Sir-”

He interrupted, sounding almost bored. “Let's just make a little deal with each other, okay? Let's not lie. Don’t lie to me, it's disrespectful and it wastes time. Alright?”

Peter swallowed, feeling his eyes burn with developing tears. He didn’t think he’d been more scared in his life. “Sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I don’t- I don’t even know what your business is, Liz and I don’t really talk about-”

Toomes relaxed expression cracked, voice raising making Peter flinch and press his back to his seat., shrinking away. “Now what did I just say about lying, Peter!” 

Peter kept his head down, breathing hard and Adrian sighed, trying again. “You know I was going to give you a second chance. I was going to let you go to the dance with my beautiful daughter, I was going to tell you to forget you ever saw me and leave my business alone but you lied to me...and I can’t let my daughter go out with a liar.”

Peter swallowed, trying to think of a plan. He could force the door open and run but he couldn't take the chance that Toomes would open fire. They were outside a school, too many people could get hurt. 

“Let's go for a drive.”

The car rumbled to life and sped off, Peters back smacking his seat from the sudden jolt forward. 

Anxiety tore through him, his spidey sense kicking up a notch as he grew closer to danger. Peter didn’t know where Toomes was taking him, but there was no doubt he’d be in trouble when they stopped. 

Peter tried to think of something to do, anything to save himself. His hands found his phone in his pocket, trying to keep it out of sight as he began texting Ned as he spoke. “Sir, Liz is going to be expecting me. She’ll wait and if I don't show up she’ll-”

Toomes interrupted, gun still pointed Peters way as he drove, one-handed, careening down the street. 

“You’re not good enough for her. She's got a future, she's not going to waste her time with a dishonest, nosey little nuisance like you. You messed with my business, kid, you messed with her future so now I’m going to take away yours.”

Peters' thumbs flew over his phone, texting Ned the simplest message he could think of. ‘Liz dad is vulture. Taking me somewhere. Has gun. Call Happy.’ He could only hope his man in the chair could help him and that Happy would actually pick up this time. He was more than grateful he’d thought of giving the number to Ned for emergencies and he tucked his phone away, keeping his eyes on the gun in front of him. 

The sight of the weapon made him queasy, more than the speed of the swerving car did. 

“Please, I don't know what you’re talking about. I'm not lying!”

Toomes was almost laughing. “You’re only making this worse, kid.”

Peters breaths came faster every foot they got to his impending doom but still, he would try to keep up the innocent act for as long as he could. As soon as he gave it up and admitted he was Spider-man, he was giving in to Toomes’ anger but if he denied it, if he begged for his life as a teenager, as a child, then maybe Toomes would stay his hand. “Just take me back to the dance, Liz’s gonna be waiting for me. she'll be worried just drop me off here. I can walk and-”

“STOP LYING! I KNOW WHO YOU ARE!” Toomes’ voice was so loud and came so sudden that Peter flinched in his seat, a whimper escaping from his mouth. He was Spider-Man, he had powers greater than any normal human but at that moment, in the back of that car, he was nothing but a child afraid for his life. 

If Toomes pulled the trigger there was nothing he could do, he would die just like Uncle Ben had, alone and afraid. His voice was unsteady, the kid in him still too scared to go up against an angry adult without his mask on. In truth that was often why he wore it, to hide how terrified he was.

“I'm not who you think I am! You don't have to do this just let me go! I won't tell anyone about the gun or-or-”

Apparent;y his strategy wasn’t going to work with Toomes, no matter how close to tears he was. “I told you to stop lying peter. Now I'm gonna have to teach you a lesson.”

Peters spidey sense screamed at him to run, to get out, to fight back, anything! His hand scrambled for the door handle, forcing the door open as the lock popped from inside, just as the car came to a stop. 

Peter was almost free, the cool air from outside, calming the flush from his face, his leg swung out, his foot meeting the concrete and-

Peter felt the sound more than he heard it, slamming into him like a baseball bat to his chest. His mind didn’t have time to work out what it was before it came again, slamming his body back against the seat as it hit him. 

His vision went white with a pain that was only just registering, and when he could finally see again all he saw was Toomes, smiling at him from the front seat. He sounded bored again as if he hadn't just shot a teenager in the stomach. “I told you not to lie to me, Peter.”

The pain was all-encompassing, filling Peters mind with nothing but pain and panic. He couldn't even collect himself enough to press his hands to the wounds as they bleed through his dress shirt and soaked into the seat behind him. 

Toomes got out of the car, languidly making his way over to Peters side, gun still held in one hand. Peter sucked in a shaky gasp, pain lancing through him with each aching inhale as he looked up at the man in front of him. “Please-” 

His voice was too weak to properly articulate what he was asking for but in his mind, he was screaming it loud and clear. ‘Don’t leave me here alone to die.’

Toomes didn’t seem to be in a hurry, grabbing Peter by the lapel and dragging him from the car, dumping him on the quiet street. Peter grunted as he fell, hitting the concrete as deadweight, his legs useless and heavy. They were outside an alleyway, dark and deserted. How far had they driven out from the school? How long hand he been begging for his life before he was ignored?

Toomes didn’t spare him any last words as he stepped away, barely even pausing when Peters weak hand gripped his pant leg. 

“P-please. Don’t do this. Don’t leave me here.”

Toomes’ gaze was as cold and devoid of emotion as the eyes of his Vulture mask and he kicked Peters hand away before getting back into the car. 

A sob forced its way out of the teenager's mouth, hand still reaching for Toomes as he started the car and drove away without a single look back. 

Peter knew why he’d begged for his killer to stay, because despite how much he hated that man, his greatest fear at that moment wasn’t being killed by an uncaring villain. It was dying alone. 

The car disappeared from sight, the sound trailing away until there was nothing but the sounds of an empty street and a deserted alley. There was no one to see the injustice go down, no one to catch the license plate or call for help. Peter was on his own and no matter how strong his abilities made him he was powerless. 

The ground was cold and hard, growing wet beneath him, his cheek pressed to the horrible grime of the street. His hands felt numb but he pressed them to the ground and pushed himself up just enough to roll onto his back. His wounds pulled and a cry of pain left his mouth, vision blurring almost to blackness. 

He’d never been in so much pain, it seemed to eat at his stomach and he panted shallowly until his vision cleared and he was left blinking up at the dark sky. 

He could feel blood dripping down his sides to collect in the small of his back where it rested slightly off the ground, sticky and nauseating. His chest heaved for air that his lungs couldn't hold and he shook, eyes blurring again but this time with tears. 

He needed to find help or he wouldn’t make it and he briefly wondered if Ben had been as scared as was. 

The thought made his chest tighten further, throat closing around his sons to choke him and he grit his teeth and tried to concentrate. 

If he could just get to his pocket, to his phone, he could call for help. Happy could come to get him or Mr Stark and everything would be okay. 

Every move seemed to pull at his wounds and he bit down on the sobs forced up his throat, the sounds coming through his clenched teeth. 

His hand made it to his pocket, fumbling inside for the phone, only to pull it out and find it was ringing already. 

It was Mr Stark. 

Hope flared up in Peters' chest so fast it was almost painful and he quickly pressed answer and held it to his ear. 

His hands were still shaking and slick with his own blood and he almost dropped the phone as Tony began rambling.

“You’re answering your phone so you must be alive. So, why is your friend calling Happy saying you've been kidnapped?”

Peter closed his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks as breathing grew more difficult. He was running out of time. 

But Mr Stark wasn’t finished, continuing to talk as Peter tried to keep breathing.

“I told you to stay away from the vulture guy and you take his daughter to prom? You actually got in his damn car are you kidding me? You just don't listen, do you? I thought taking the suit would be enough but you don't stop. What is the matter with you kid? Do you have a death wish? Do you even know what he could do to you if he found out who you are?”

By the time Tony finally stopped talking Peter's vision was beginning to blur from more than just tears, the stars and street lights all becoming smears of light against the dark sky. He sucked in a laboured breath, trying to gain enough oxygen to speak. 

The sound of it worried Tony, his voice becoming strained through the phone. “Peter, answer me.”

“....M-Mr stark. Help me.” Choking, wet breaths, mouth-filling with warm copper as it came up his throat with a cough.

“Peter? What’s wrong? I'm coming to get you, okay? I’ll be right there, hang on. Peter?”

His eyes scrunched shut as his pain wracked his frame, coughing up blood to splatter his lips and chin. 

“-can’t breathe! The blood is-“ he coughed again, his weak words coming as whined pleas. 

His vision blurred, chest feeling tight with lungs refusing to expand. “Peter, what blood?! Come on, kid, talk to me just...just stay with me. What's wrong?”

“Toomes...sh….shot...me. I need...h-help.”

“Shit. Fuck, kid...I'm coming. I have your location you're gonna be okay, keep talking to me.”

Peter wasn’t sure if he could, he dragged in another shallow gulp of air, chest burning. His hands weren’t shaking anymore but he also couldn’t move them.

“I can't move...I can't feel my hands anymore Mr Stark. They’ve gone numb and my legs...I can’t move them. I’m gonna be okay right? You’re gonna come save me?”

Tony sounded like he was having trouble breathing too, words choked and worried.  
“I'm coming buddy.”

Peter could swear he felt his heart thumping in his chest, limp hand resting over his stomach, blood streaming over his fingers. He knew he should be pushing down to apply pressure but he was so tired. 

“I don't think I have much time left. I’m getting tired. I don't know if I can stay awake till you get here.”

“Peter-” He could hear the words Tony wanted to say. ‘Keep trying. Stay awake.’ but that wasn’t up to him and they both knew it. They were running out of time and there was nothing they could do to stop that.

Peter’s eyes fluttered, tears trailing down his temples to dampen his hair. “Could you just stay on the phone with me though? So I’m not alone? I don't want to be alone.”

Tony’s voice was rough and there was a lot of noise in the background, letting Peter know he was on his way. “I promise, buddy I'm coming. Just hold on, I’m not leaving you.”

Memories floated to Peters awareness, like bubbles rising to the surface of the water and he found his mind drifting. “I said that to Uncle Ben that night. I told him it would be okay. I asked him to stay but...he didn't.” And now he was doing it. He was going to leave Aunt May and Ned and Mr Stark. 

Mr Stark had left him too. Taking the suit and refusing to call him back. His Dad, then Uncle Ben, then Tony...and now he was going too. Had he always been alone and just not realised it?

Something between a hiccup and a sob burst from the teenager's mouth and he scrunched his eyes shut as he moaned. “Don’t leave me.”

He was hurting and scared, he was a child and his pain was worse than anything else Tony had ever felt. 

“I’m staying Peter, I swear to god I'm staying with you and you're not leaving either so, just keep talking.”

Another cough rattled Peters chest, lungs refusing to expand for anything more than a quarter of a breath. Fresh blood splattered across his chin, droplets sliding down his neck and Peter wasn’t stupid. He knew what that meant. He’d run out of time. “I can't keep my eyes open...I just need to rest for a bit maybe then I’ll be okay.”

Tony's voice was hard and angry. “No.”

“Its okay, it doesn't hurt so much anymore. It's just cold.” Peters mind was becoming numb like his hands, he couldn't think, couldn't remember why he wasn’t supposed to sleep. His eyes fluttered, flickering shut as his breaths came slower, shallower. 

“Peter.” That was Mr Starks ‘listen to me’ tone but Peter was already drifting off, he just had something to say first.

“Look after May, okay? Till I wake up?” That was important. May was important.

“Don't go to sleep.” Mr Stark sounded scared. Peter wasn’t sure why anymore.

“I’ll take care of her when I wake up. I’ll make sure she's not worried.” His voice was weaker, breaths nothing but shallow gasps for air.

“Peter, please I’m almost there.” Mr Stark was yelling, Peter knew that but his voice sounded so far away. Something fell from his hand and smacked the ground near his ear, his arm flopping to the ground, energy spent holding onto his mentor's voice but it was fading.

“Goodnight, Mr Stark. I’m sorry.”

“No. Peter, don’t fall asleep...Listen to me! Peter!”

:::::::::

Tony kept the call going if only to hear Peters shallow gasps to let him know he was still alive. But he wouldn't be for long and he flew as fast as his suit could take him. 

He was tracking Peter’s phone, his suit taking him straight to the dark alley where he spotted a small figure on the ground. 

“Peter?” The kid didn’t move, his suit dirtied and rumpled, his previously white shirt now soaked in red, one limp hand curled over the bullet wounds torn through his stomach. 

Tony almost stopped breathing. There was just so much blood. Too much. Most alarmingly, it was streaked down Peters' throat and sprayed across his mouth and cheeks. He was a mess. 

“No, no no, god.” He fell to his knees beside the boy, Iron Man suit folding back just enough to let him strip off his hoodie, before wrapping back around him. 

“You’re gonna be okay, you hear me? I’m gonna get you some help, Pete. Just hang on.” He folded his hoodie and pressed it to Peters' stomach, his little body rocking a little from the pressure, head rolling on his limp neck. He was barely breathing and the fact that his lungs had been filling up as they'd spoken made Tony feel ill. Peter had been drowning the whole time.

His own medical team had already been sent in as soon as Tony had realised Peter was in trouble but they wouldn't get there in time and he knew it. Peter was fading, they needed to move.

“Friday, call Helen Cho.”

“Tony, what-”

“Helen, Peter’s been shot, my kid- I don't have time to wait for a pickup, if I move him will he-?”

His hands trembled against the boy where he pressed down, trying to stop the bleeding and he had to concentrate on keeping his breathing regular, because what if he couldn't be moved? What if he just had to wait until Peter died underneath him? What if nothing could be done?

“I have your suits scans of his condition. I’ll have the halo ready to go when you get here. Hurry.”

She hadn’t answered his question directly but she could help Peter and that was enough to make Tony move. Air rushed back into his chest with relief, he had something to do, he could help. 

His hands moved faster than they ever had before, undoing Peters belt and yanking it from his pant loops before gently slipping a hand under the boys back and lifting him just enough to slide the belt underneath. 

“Everything's going to be okay, I’m going to take you to Helen and she’ll make everything better. I promise buddy, she’s got something that can help.”

The boy didn’t move, of course, face pale and still, the only noise he made was each dragged in wheeze through ashy, red stained lips. Tony pulled the belt around Peters' stomach, cinching it tight over the hoodie to try and keep pressure on the wounds while they flew. 

It had to have hurt but Peter didn’t flinch, his brow didn’t even twitch, the only indication that anything had changed was the sudden splutter he gave at the tight pressure. “I know, kiddo, I know. Come here.”

Tony’s hands were wet, leaving bright handprints over everything he touched as he scooped the teenager into his arms as carefully as he could and held him to his armour clad chest. 

“We’re on our way, Helen.”

He’d set Miss Cho up in her own lab at the compound just a few weeks ago and he’d never been more grateful to see her as he flew in with his precious cargo. She’d already set up the table and regeneration Halo, the same one she’d used on Barton back on that mission before the Ultron mess. 

She waved her hands, ushering him over to the table with her gloved hands. “Lay him down here!”

Tony did as he was told, rushing over and laying the boy down, stepping back and out of his suit to send it flying away. 

Helen was already assessing and working, untying the belt and grabbing Tony's hands to push back down on the hoodie. “Hold this, I need to get his shirt off him.”

Tony nodded wordlessly as he pressed down, Helen rushing around him, cutting Peter’s shirt and jacket off and discarding his tie. They were flung to the floor, his shirt and jacket so soaked with blood they slapped the floor as they landed and Tony felt like throwing up all over again. 

Peter rocked a little on the table as he was manhandled and worked around, monitors slapping to his bare chest in time to hear them beep and squeal in alarm. 

Helen panted as she searched the lines and numbers on the monitor, her skilled eyes finding the problem far faster than Tony ever could. 

“He’s not breathing.”

Tony felt something rush up his throat and get stuck right behind his adam's apple. He almost couldn’t breathe through his panic but there was no time to freeze when Helen gave orders.

Helen grabbed an Ambu bag and shoved it at Tony, eyes already on something else to fix. “Place it over his mouth and nose and squeeze the bag.”

Tony didn’t move as fast as she did, shock sticking to his brain like glue, making it difficult to process much of anything and it took a second for his body to catch up. He felt stiff and clumsy, moving from one simple step to the next like his first robots had as a child, needing time to process every little command.

Take your hands away from Peters' stomach. But then he’d bleed. Helen told you to move. Peters not breathing. Take the bag.

It felt as though every step took too long and he quickly pulled his hands away from the ruined hoodie and took the Ambu bag, placing it over Peter's mouth and nose and squeezing like he’d been told. 

Tony stood there as Helen assessed her patient, and he watched Peter’s chest rise and fall with each press of the bag. It didn’t move enough, rising a little but every forced breath sounded like gurgles and Tony knew at that point they were only buying time.

Helen mumbled something as she placed IVs in Peters' arm, hanging blood bags and examining the bullet wounds but Tony was having trouble breathing again because something was wrong. Peters chest wasn't rising and falling anymore, each squeeze of the Ambu bag just made the boy gurgle like he was drowning on dry land and Tony didn’t know what to do. 

“Helen, it's not working.”

The doctor looked over, mouth tightening as she let out a frustrated breath. 

“There's too much blood in his chest.” Helen grabbed a needle from her tray of supplies and turned back to them. “I need you to hold him.”

That was all Tony wanted to do. He dropped the Ambu bag and picked Peter back up, cradling him with an arm around his back and using the other to loop around Peters' knees, pulling him into his side. 

He was prepared to be covered in blood again, he was prepared to feel how heavy and limp Peter was in his arms, he was not prepared for the splatter of blood that spilt out of Peters' mouth when he was turned. He ignored it, closing his eyes and he pressed his cheek to Peters' hair and whispered to him. “I’m here, Peter. You don’t have to be scared, I’m not leaving you.”

Tony didn’t want to know what Helen was doing at Peters back. He saw a giant needle and a tube and bag and he kept his eyes shut until she had finished, handing him back the Ambu bag to use one-handed. 

He rolled Peter back as much as he could without disturbing the tube taped to his back, cradling him in one hand and forcing him to breathe with the other. “Okay, kid. You got this, you just gotta hold on a little longer while the good doctor patches you up.”

Helen pulled the big contraption up over the table, turning it on and calibrating it as she spoke. 

“I’m focusing the repair on the worst of the bleeding. Once he's more stable I’ll take him in for surgery. There's too much damage inside for this to fix it all.”

Tony didn’t like the idea of surgery, he didn’t like the idea of letting go of Peter at all but he trusted Helen and if she said he needed it then that was that. 

He nodded, focussing on keeping Peter breathing while the regeneration halo did its thing but as much as he wanted it to, his mind wouldn't stay quiet. 

Peter was still wearing his suit pants, the rest of his outfit strewn across the floor. His boutonniere still pinned to his jacket, the little flowers crumpled and ruined. Peter should have been safe, he should have been at his school dance, laughing with his friends and trying to gather up enough courage to ask a girl to dance. He shouldn’t be hurt or dying or scared. 

Tony squeezed the Ambu bag, watching Peter’s closed eyes and pale face as his chest rose and fell with each pump of air being forced through his mouth. He looked so small in Tony's arms and it all just hit him at once. They’d almost lost him. 

Tony held the boy close and cried, not knowing what else to do. 

::::::::::::::::

“Tony?” Happy’s voice was lowered but it sounded so loud in the quiet room. Peter had been taken to surgery and Tony had stayed at the table he’d held Peter on, staring at the mess left behind. 

Happy cursed at the sight of it all, the clothes left strewn on the floor, cut apart and ruined, the equipment scattered from Helen's frantic treatment of her patient, and of course the blood. It was all over the place, splattered across the floor, smeared over the table and drying on Tony’s hands and clothes. He was a mess, inside and out. 

He felt wrung out; cut apart and discarded like Peter’s shirt on the tiles and Happy quickly made his way over to put him back together again. His hands were on Tony's arms, gently lifting and pulling, manoeuvring his friend until Tony looked down and realised he was wearing a new shirt. 

Happy pulled a cloth from somewhere and began cleaning him up, wiping the blood from his hands and arms. It wasn’t until Happy had discarded the washcloth that Tony spoke. 

“I have to call his aunt.”

Happy must have left the room for supplies at some point but Tony couldn't recall when. He pressed a cup of tea into Tony's hands, carefully wrapping those worn fingers around the mug to make sure he didn’t drop it. “His friend won't stop calling me. He left about eleven voicemails. He cried through a lot of them.”

Tony closed his eyes but opened them a second later when Happy nudged his mug to his lips, urging him to drink. He obeyed as Happy carried on, the tea warming his insides and making him feel human again.

“I don't know what I should tell him.”

Tony sighed, his mind coming back to him slowly. “The truth. Pick him up, bring him here. He’ll want to see Peter and May will want to know he's okay.”

He shivered and Happy gently pulled the mug of tea away just long enough to push a hoodie over Tony's head.

“I can call them. You should lay down.” His forehead was creased in worry, eyes paying careful attention to every move his friend made. Tony loved Happy so much at that moment, for being there like he always was.

“No, I’ll call May. You call Ned and pick them both up. They need to be here when Peter comes out.”

Tony blinked, taking his tea again and sipping at it, whole body relaxing from the stiff position he’d been sitting in for too long. Happy looked relieved to see him more coherent and he nodded, stepping out. “Okay.” 

Tony knew he needed to call May but what was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to say something so horrible? ‘The only family you have left almost died and I think it may have been my fault. I'm sorry.’

Sorry wasn’t enough. He knew that but it was all he had to offer.

“Mr Stark? I wasn’t expecting to hear from you since Peter left your internship.”

Something in his chest tightened at her voice, so light and calm, he almost couldn’t get the words out. “May...Something's happened. I'm so sorry. Peter was on his way to the dance...I don't know what happened exactly-”

“No. Don't-” Her voice was hard. She’d heard that string of words before. ‘I’m so sorry Ma'am there's been an accident. You’re husband…’

Tony pushed on, knowing if he stopped now he’d never say it. “He called me for help but I got there too late.”

“No, he’s safe. He’s at school, he’s at the dance.” 

Tony wished so badly that were true. “Someone shot him and-”

“Stop talking!” Her voice cracked and Tony could hear shaking breath from the phone as he fell quiet. It took a moment for her to say anything else, and when she did it was nothing but a whisper. 

“Please, just...tell me he’s alive.”

At least he could do that. Small mercies. “He is. I’ve brought him to my facility where he’s getting the best treatment possible. I'll have someone pick you up...I’m so sorry, May.”

There was nothing else he could do for her then and there was nothing she could do but cry. Tony could have hung up, he could have just put the phone down and walked away but standing there, listening to May howl through the phone, felt like a sort of penance and he had a lot to atone for. 

:::::::::::::::

It had been a rough couple of days, with the whole getting shot thing, May had been so upset and worried she didn’t want to leave Peters side and then there was Ned and he was scared too. Peter found himself comforting them more than they comforted him but really, he was just glad to have people to be brave for. He thought that if they had tried comforting him he might have cried. 

They took care of him of course, always making sure he was comfortable and that the pain wasn’t too bad, the only one that didn’t constantly worry over him was Mr Stark. He was there the whole time, never too far, always making sure Peter was okay but he didn’t say much. 

“Stop, let me help you sit up. Don’t do it by yourself, you could hurt something.” He’d pull Peter ever so carefully, into a better position, and he’d tuck him in at night and do the same for May where she’d fallen asleep at his bedside but he never quite mePeters'rs eyes. 

On the third morning after the shooting, Peter woke to find Tony sitting in the chair beside his bed instead of May, in fact, she wasn’t in the room at all. 

Peter lifted a hand to rub his eyes, careful of the IV’s and monitors but his sleepy hands clumsily knocked his nasal cannula askew. 

“Here.” Tony immediately leaned over and adjusted it, listening carefully to Peters wheezed breaths to make sure he wasn’t getting worse.

“I’m okay. Dr Cho said it would take a little while for my chest to heal, even with my abilities. I am getting better.”

Tony nodded. Peter had been intubated for the first day and a half and he’d just graduated from oxygen mask to cannula last night.

“I know, I just…” He remembered all too well what it had been like to be the only thing keeping Peter breathing, the constant squeeze of the Ambu bag being the simplest and yet monumental task. “I just worry. I can’t help it.”

Peter could see the shadows passing through Tony's expression, the way his eyes flickered away and he nodded, knowing Tony had found him on the street. 

“Well...thanks, for saving me. I didn’t think I was going to be making it home.”

Tony pressed his lips together at Peter’s quiet words, looking away as he pressed his palm across his cheek. He didn’t say anything but Peter knew he was hurting and he felt awful all over again. He hated making people worry and yet he seemed to be so good at it without ever meaning to be. 

“You don’t have to stay, Mr Stark. I’ll be okay and I know you probably have stuff to do.”

Tony looked at him, frowning as he sniffed, eyes watery. “I’m not just going to leave you here alone.” He looked almost angry at the suggestion.

Peter fiddled with the monitor on his finger, eyes carefully averted from Tony’s gaze. “I know you’re mad at me for getting involved with Toomes again but I promise, I didn’t know it was him until-“

Mr Stark shook his head, looking tired. “Peter, stop. I’m not mad.”

Peter raised his eyes to Tony's enough to give him a look indicating he clearly didn’t believe him. Tony rolled his eyes as he cracked a smile. 

“Okay, I was mad but…” His smile faded and he got serious again, bringing back that feeling of guilt in Peter. “I should have listened to you. I should have taken the threat more seriously and I should have been there to train you with the suit, properly. This is my fault and I’m so sorry you got hurt. I just don’t know how to do the whole, mentor thing. I mean, my dad was never around and then Obadiah tried to kill me so-”

It was Peter's turn to interrupt, hand reaching out to touch Tony's arm. “Mr Stark, it's okay. I get it. You run a company and you’re an Avenger. You have other things to do. You can’t be dealing with me all the time.” He wasn’t bitter about it, he was just stating a fact but Tony winced, rubbing a hand over his forehead. 

“You don’t have to make excuses for me, kid. You’re important and I’ve been a crappy adult to look up to. You were right, threats like Toomes shouldn’t be taken lightly and if it was important to you it should have been important to me too.”

Peter felt the guilt ease away, along with something he hadn’t realised he'd been holding on to. It was something in the bottom of his stomach, heavy and bitter. It was the feeling that he was being abandoned, again. He’d been stuffing it down, trying to ignore it but it had been there and Tony was finally digging it out and throwing it away. 

Peter found himself smiling as Tony gave him a wary smirk. “Now, I’m praying to GOD that there isn’t a next time but if there is, I promise I will be there and listen. If you say something is important then it is. I promise I’ll come when you call.”

Peter smiled, cheeks burning from the force of it and he lifted a careful hand to scrub at his cheek, wiping away the few tears that had fallen. He sniffed the fear from the shooting disappearing in an instant. He’d be okay, no matter what happened, because Iron Man had his back. Always. 

“Thanks, Mr Stark.”

**Author's Note:**

> OKay, so I just wanted to thank everyone that reads my fics and supports my writing because holy hell I've really improved in my writing. I don't just mean quality I mean like when I first started I wouldn't add detail or anything, i thought I was but nope. All my fics were like 2000 words at a max and now this one, which I thought was pretty simple ended at over 6000 words and I wasn't even really trying to get it at that length so I just wanted to say thanks because without your support I woulndt have gotten here. So, happy holidays and have a beautiful rest of the year I love you all!


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